


Seven Is A Magic Number

by the_original_starfruit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Care of Magical Creatures, Christmas at Hogwarts, F/F, First Love, Friendship, Growing Up, Magical Misadventures, Mythology - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pure Children, Quidditch, first crossover and it's Weird, lesbians have finally infiltrated hogwarts, sorry guys i just reread the series and this would Not get outta my head
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-07 07:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_original_starfruit/pseuds/the_original_starfruit
Summary: Lapis swore she would talk to that little Slytherin, the one with the impossible hair and the dirt under her fingernails.





	Seven Is A Magic Number

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas everyone !

The platform was bright and beautiful, with its arching brick walls and many-paneled skylights. But mostly it was loud – hundreds of voices babbling, owls hooting, parents calling to children, friends calling to friends – a tidal wave of noise that rose and roiled up to the very top of the soaring ceilings. A bit overwhelming for an eleven-year-old all by herself.

     Lapis was clutching the handle of her threadbare carpetbag so hard her knuckles went white. Not enough gold to buy a trunk and not enough things to put in one, either. All she had were her secondhand spellbooks and her secondhand robes, which she had already pulled on over her normal – _No,_ she corrected herself, _not normal,_ Muggle _–_ clothes.

     She wondered, for the thousandth time, if her mum had been magic. Her foster family was magic, and they had taken her in with the help of a man in a green cape as soon as the orphanage started to complain of her odd talents. Lapis smiled a little, remembering the matron’s shriek when she stepped on a spider crab in the hall, and the rush of seawater that had cascaded down the stairs when she opened the door of her room.

     The train let out a huge whistle and a cloud of white steam. Lapis looked around and saw that nearly everyone had boarded, and the few people left on the platform were hurrying to get on before the doors closed, waving cheerful goodbyes to parents and siblings.

   Swallowing her nerves, she slipped through the doors into the train. There was another shrill whistle blast, the doors closed behind her, and she began to walk. She made it only about a third of the way down the hall before the train gave a great lurch forward. Lapis looked for a place to sit, speeding up as she noticed heads turning to look at her from inside packed compartments.

     The last compartment was empty, and she sat down gratefully, letting the carpetbag thump to the floor. She pulled her wand out of her pocket, enjoying the little rush of warmth that moved through her hand and arm, now close to being familiar. Rosewood and unicorn hair. It had made her feel close to the sea the moment she touched it, like coming home, and at the wand shop they’d told her the rosebush had grown on the coastline at Scarborough.

     Lapis shut her eyes and let the tingling spread up from her arm. It curled in her chest like a purring cat, and she felt it begin to concentrate in her hand, struggling to push out of her wand. She breathed deeply, opened her eyes. This was what she was meant for.

     Water was floating through the air in her compartment, great shining globes and ribbons, contorting and swirling and catching the light from the window. Lapis started to smile, moving her wand in a new way, a twist of the wrist coupled with a flick, what would that do –

     The door of the compartment banged open, glass rattling on its tracks, and as Lapis jumped violently the water splashed to the floor, falling out of her control. The girl in the doorway blinked disconcertedly at her soaked shoes for a moment, then looked up and grinned. Her smile was a slash in her face, happily reckless.

     “First year?” she asked, pushing back unbelievable quantities of pale blonde hair. Lapis nodded, wanting to find it in her to be angry at the interruption, but somehow the emotion was negated by the girl’s muscular arms and fiercely pretty face. She looked incalculably old to Lapis, toweringly tall. “Got a name?”

     “Lapis,” she said, stowing her wand away, “Lapis Lazuli.”

“Hey, we got the same kind of weird name,” the girl said, sitting heavily across from Lapis. “I’m Jasper.”

     “Weird,” Lapis agreed, trying not to sound too eager. “Are gem names common then? For…for wizards?”

     Jasper snorted.

“I doubt it. More like my parents are purebloods with some really dusty family traditions. Like naming their kids after rocks.”

     Her eyes traveled over Lapis’s old robes and carpetbag as she spoke. Lapis felt embarrassment burn her cheeks, and she bunched her hand together in the loose end of her sleeve, trying to hide the clumsy patch there.

   “You’re Muggle-born, aren’t you?” Jasper asked. Her tone was neutral, but her eyes had gotten some strange cast, a darkness in the warm brown.

     “So what if I am?” Lapis said, and her voice wasn’t nearly as brave as she wanted it to be. Her cheeks flushed despite her best intentions.

     Jasper hesitated, but after a long moment smiled with one corner of her mouth.

“You’ve got spunk, Lapis Lazuli. And you’re right – it doesn’t matter that much, one way or the other.” When she stood up, her voice had gone strange – light and teasing on top, with a bit of malice shining through. “But I’d clean up that water before we get to Hogwarts. Wouldn’t want anyone to find out a _firstie’s_ been conjuring elements before her first Transfiguration class.”

     Jasper exited the compartment, pulling the door closed carelessly behind her and leaving Lapis in a stricken silence.

     The rest of the journey passed quickly. Lapis’s stomach was a boiling ball, jumping between hunger and nerves; she had waved the sweets trolley away hours before, a choice she now regretted. The train started to squeal to a stop much sooner than she expected, and she swallowed, dry-mouthed, as she furtively exited the compartment. The unsolved puddle of water glared up from the floor in a silent accusation.

     Trees swayed above the dark platform outside, jam-packed with chattering students. Many of them were heading up a worn footpath. Before Lapis could decide whether or not to join them, a loud voice roared out from the left, making a cluster of first years jump like startled rabbits.

     “Firs’ years over here! Firs’ years come to the boats!”

Nobody moved, and heads bent together in frightened whispers. The little groups established on the train seemed to draw closer together.

     _Well, if nobody else is going –_

Lapis started forward by herself, the handles of her carpetbag in a chokehold, and she was practically blasted backwards by the person who came up around the bend.

     “Firs’ years! We got any firs’ years at all? Oh –“ He stopped at the sight of Lapis, who had to crane her neck up to look at him. His enormous face slowly crinkled up in a smile, olive skin and black eyes nearly hidden behind the bushiest beard she had ever seen. She thought numbly that it was impossible for a person to be that _big._

     “All standin’ up here like a bunch o’ frightened knarls!” He chuckled, holding his lantern a bit higher so it floated eight feet above their heads. “I’m Hagrid, groundskeeper and Professor o’ Magical Creatures here at Hogwarts. Now, c’mon down to the boats. Nearly time for the Sorting.”

     _The Sorting,_ her thoughts echoed dimly, and her stomach flipped.

Lapis was first behind Hagrid, following him closely down the path. She kept her head down, ignoring the hot glances bouncing off her hunched shoulders. She was pounding with dread and adrenaline, warring for top position deep down in her stomach.

     They stopped on the dark, rocky shore of a lake. A fleet of tiny boats bobbed in the dark water, casting bright glimmers of lantern light like gold filings on black silk. Lapis let the toes of her shoes be lapped by the little waves, and something in her loosened slightly.

     “Four to a boat,” Hagrid said, helping students clamber in one by one. Lapis was one of the last, standing off to the side with her feet in the water.

     “You got summat special in there?” he asked, gesturing to her carpetbag when she came forward.

     “No, it’s just my things,” she said, holding it a little tighter to her chest. He nodded.

“Firs’ student in years I’ve seen without a trunk!” he said jovially. Lapis’s face burned as two girls looked around from the nearest boat. She wished fiercely that Hagrid would shut up.

     “Ah, thas’ alright,” he said quickly, maybe seeing her expression. “It’ll get up to yer room one way or another. Don’t matter if it’s a trunk, a bag, or a mokeskin. Now,” he continued loudly, raising his voice, “I’ll take yeh up to the castle, n’ one o’ the professors’ll guide yeh on from there. No messin’ with each other, shovin’ or nothin’, because we’ve had a kid fall in the lake before n’ the giant squid don’t always say no to a snack.” His eyes twinkled down warmly at Lapis as she clambered into a boat, and she found herself smiling.

     The boat ride was dark and smooth. The little vessels glided across the lake with barely a ripple and no assistance, except Hagrid in his own boat at the head of the fleet. The two other girls in Lapis’s boat were pale-faced and quiet, tightly gripping each other’s hands, but Lapis hadn’t felt more relaxed since she got to King’s Cross. She let her fingers trail across the surface of the water, and suddenly with a shock she knew that the water went down a thousand metres below, deep and silent worlds inhabited by creatures she only dreamed of. A few notes of choral song, eerily beautiful and somehow _green_ , seemed to directly enter her head without access to her ears.

     She snatched her hand back and shook the water from her fingertips, heart pounding in her throat, but before she could think too much about it there was a collective gasp, and the girl in her boat with the short black hair whispered, “Oh, _look!”_

     Like a glittering topping on a wedding cake, the castle rose ahead of them out of the darkness. It was perched on a cliff overlooking the lake, towers soaring delicately from the parapets and inner body of the building. Each window was lit with golden candles, and its walls made of white stone seemed to give off a pearly glow in the glinting light: pink, pale blue, yellow, and silver dancing in every tinted shadow.

     _Hogwarts,_ Lapis thought in awe, and she was still looking up, trying to see more of it, even as the boats slid into a neat line on a pebbly shore under the very cliff the castle rested upon.

     “A’right, everybody out, careful now, get a move on over there, can’t be late for yer own Sorting!”

     Lapis found herself herded along in a small, jostling crowd, up a slope to the bottom of a marble staircase. Hagrid in the rear, they walked up to a pair of magnificently carved wooden doors, which opened of their own accord.

     They were propelled into the entrance hall, and Lapis craned around, trying to look at everything at once – her clamoring brain took in a sweeping staircase, six suits of armor, and windows into bustling rooms – no, not windows – they were paintings of people who _moved in their frames –_ there was a sound as well, an odd sound she didn’t quite know that reminded her of a sleigh ride she’d taken in a cobblestone square –

     “First years, over here,” said a quiet voice that nonetheless cut effortlessly across the babble of the castle. “Thank you, Hagrid.”

     Lapis gaped, realized she was gaping, and made a perfunctory effort to close her mouth as a man with a horse’s body, his pale hide silky and his handsome face somewhat long, gestured towards a short hallway to their right.

     “Thanks fer takin’ ‘em off my hands, Firenze,” Hagrid said, his eyes twinkling, “bunch o’ ruddy troublemakers, these!”

     The centaur smiled gently as he took in their pale and bewildered faces.

“Yes, harbingers of mischief, no doubt. Welcome to Hogwarts, first years. I am Firenze, and I teach the ways of the planets – the ever-shifting mysteries of Divination, which none of you will be fortunate enough to undertake for several years yet.” He smiled again, serene and reassuring, and turned down the hallway. “Please follow me.”

     They were brought into a small room, which filled with nervous whispers, incorporeal as the sound reeds make in the wind. A few minutes or hours passed, Lapis didn’t know which – she was waiting for the Sorting, waiting for the doors to open, one hand so tight on her wand that she would later find red impressions dug into her palm –

     The doors swung open eventually, and Firenze beckoned them forward into the Great Hall.

     There was the wondrous impression of an impossible room – a million floating candles, a ceiling that opened to the night sky bursting with stars – but mostly Lapis was just conscious of _eyes_ , a few hundred pairs of them, glittering and staring from long, low benches around tables. Somebody was saying something, but the words were few and far away, reaching her ears through some kind of weird tunnel. Her stomach performed a nervous backflip. A distant voice called out:

   “Ackerly, Sinead.”

The girl from Lapis’s boat went white as a sheet, a birthmark standing out darkly on her chin. She stumbled forward, her short black hair drifting around her ears, and sat on a stool in front of a table full of adults. For one wild second Lapis thought they would be judged, one by one – if she failed, would she be sent home? – and then a very old witch in sweeping robes, back ramrod-straight and white hair pulled into a severe bun, placed a ragged black hat on Sinead’s head. It fell down to her chin.

     Lapis’s mouth dropped open as the hat’s did the same. A rip near the brim had opened wide, and as everyone in the Hall watched, it somehow shouted, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

     The room erupted with applause, but nobody cheered louder than the table hung with happy yellow cloths. Sinead gave a trembling smile, handed the hat back to the old witch behind her, and trotted down to the yellow table, which made room. As Lapis watched, someone handed her a sunflower.

     Lapis exhaled shakily, barely aware of the crowd around her thinning as dozens of other names were called. A tall boy (“Damith, Griffin”) tripped on his way up and then went on to the Slytherin table, his face red as a beet. A girl with waist-length, curly hair (“Hazelwood, Sage”) was Sorted into Gryffindor, and Lapis saw Jasper move over to let her sit.

     “Lazuli, Lapis,” she heard dimly, and a great jolt of electricity seemed to strike her stomach. She stumbled forward, wondering if she was going to throw up. Suddenly aware that she was still clutching her awful carpetbag, she flushed. A million eyes blinked up at her, and she squeezed hers shut.

     The hat dropped over her face. She breathed in, comforted by the smell of the hat shivering up her spine – heavy, warm, ancient, and almost spiced, the same feeling as when she held her wand in her hand filling her whole head. It crackled with magic.

     She jumped as a voice began to mutter in her ear.

“Hmmm…oh, very powerful indeed, intuitive, with an unusual amount of control for one so young. A bit afraid of yourself, and not overly ambitious, eh? Not Slytherin, then. Not a hard worker, but I see success anyway…there’s a lot of love here, though you keep it deeply hidden…you value freedom above all else, interesting! You would like to fly…not down-to-earth, no, not at all. You can be rather rash, yet you tend to run away from conflict instead of seeking it…freedom…freedom of thought…yes…I’m sure you’ll find yourself in –

     “RAVENCLAW!” The hat shouted out loud, and a great storm of clapping reached Lapis’s ears like the sound of waves breaking on the coast.

     She stood up on watery legs, lifting the hat from her head and handing it blindly backwards. She hurried to the Ravenclaw table, where a misty-eyed fifth year with a flower behind each ear patted the bench next to him, giving her a kind, vague smile.

     Exhaling, Lapis sat, feeling the heaviness finally drain from her stomach. She _belonged_ here, the hat had said so, and there were people clapping for her, offering to be her family.

     A young voice whispered in her ear, coupled with a light poke to her shoulder.

“Hey, you sat up there for a long time. What House’d you reckon you would be in?” She turned reluctantly, not wanting to take her eyes off the Sorting.

   “I don’t know,” she whispered back, “I didn’t even know about Hogwarts until a few weeks ago.”

     The boy who poked her was black and very pretty, with a soft oval face, almond-shaped eyes, and curly hair a bit too long around the ears. He nodded, a little dimple at the side of his mouth.

     “I’m Muggle-born, too – my mum’s an ornithologist, imagine her reaction when a great tawny owl showed up in broad day, tapping on the window with a letter in her beak.” He pulled a face, his eyes widening and bugging with excitement, mouth puckering into a comical O.

     Lapis stifled a laugh.

“You’re Lapis, right?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the table. She nodded. He stuck his hand out. They shook. “Petrel. And yes, I love my mum, but damn her for giving me a bird name.”

     This time Lapis did laugh, and Petrel grinned along with her, his hand warm and square in hers, until an irritated sixth year across the table shushed them, a prefect’s badge glinting on her robes.

     Lapis turned quickly back to face the Sorting, and had to restrain another giggle – the girl being Sorted was so tiny on the stool that her feet didn’t touch the floor, and the hat had engulfed her entire head. Only her neck peeked out, delicate and thin as a bird’s bone, decorated with an immaculately pressed Hogwarts tie long enough to fold up twice in her lap. Her knobbly knees were trembling, knocking together as the hat made its irrevocable decision. Lapis felt a sudden rush of pity for her, accompanied by a warm feeling, a thing she associated with a baby rabbit she had found once – she wanted, maybe, to protect this tiny girl? Lapis found herself hoping, suddenly, that she would be in Ravenclaw –

     “SLYTHERIN!” The hat declared, and the girl toppled forward off the stool among the cheers from the green-and-silver table. She took off the hat and turned around, pushing up a huge pair of round glasses and smiling bashfully. Her hair, a massive blonde cloud of afro curls, was disheveled, standing up every which way. Lapis’s heart walloped in her chest.

     She cleared her throat a little bit, poking Petrel.

“Did you – did you hear her name? The girl who just got Sorted?”

   He looked around, dragging his eyes away from the patchy clouds scudding across the ceiling.

     “Wh – sorry, no. No idea.”

Lapis nodded, biting her lip. She tried to see where the girl sat down, but only caught a glimpse of light curls on the side of the table blocked by two decidedly broad fourth years.

     She spent the rest of the Sorting distracted, trying to get a peek of that hair, only paying attention when one other girl (“Rowans, Alicia”) joined the Ravenclaw table.

     When the last of the applause had died away, the old witch waved her wand casually. The stool and hat vanished as she stepped forward.

     “Welcome, students, old and new, to Hogwarts. I am, as most of you know, Headmistress McGonagall. Some announcements before we enjoy our food.” A few older students groaned, and the headmistress smiled sharply, not without humor. “The Forbidden Forest is still, as the name would imply, strictly forbidden. Quidditch tryouts will be held two weeks from now, and first years _are_ permitted. Your class schedules will be in your dormitories. Now,” she raised her arm, flicked her wand once more, “welcome again to our first years, and we certainly hope you enjoy your first Hogwarts feast.”

     Before she could look back at the table, Lapis felt warmth and smelled a hundred different foods. As Headmistress McGonagall sat back down, an energetic babble of voices broke out through the Hall, along with the sounds of forks and knives on plates, everyone scrambling to get food. Lapis gaped at the assortment that had appeared, then began to load her plate – roast chicken, potatoes, sausages, creamed spinach, and warm, golden-brown bread that sat invitingly next to a crock of shimmering red jam.

     “’ou hear what she _said?”_ Petrel asked excitedly, his mouth stuffed full of biscuit.

“Which part?” Lapis returned, “’cause I was mostly focused on the food.”

   He snorted, swallowed a massive bite, then continued, eyes watering.

“ _Quidditch!_ First years are allowed to try out for the team! This is huge – last time a first year was on a team was the Gryffindors, Harry Potter, nearly _forty years_ ago!”

     Lapis nodded and made a thoughtful noise, having just taken a bite of bread. Her mind was humming with the possibilities. Her foster family hadn’t let her touch a broom – “First years aren’t allowed on the team, dear, and I’m no licensed teacher. Stay safe and on the ground” – but she had often watched people in the village practice Quidditch, and just the sight of them, of people _flying,_ had set a fire in her belly. She needed it as she had never needed anything before, to get her hands on a broom, to see how high she could go. She had caught a Snitch once – she had seen it swooping low to evade the girl who was after it, a girl who flew like a hawk, eyes sharply scanning, shoulders hunched forward in the wind. Without thinking Lapis had reached up, jumping to catch the little ball as she had once caught fish barehanded at the seaside. _Good snag,_ the girl playing Seeker had said, impressed, and Lapis had grinned as she was grinning now. She had returned the Snitch to the players as she returned the unharmed fish to the water, to fly away free in their smooth and muffled world. Visions of climbing high enough to let her shoulders brush the clouds, catching that little speck of winged gold to feel it flutter and beat against her palm.

     There was suddenly a great scraping of benches, and Lapis blinked. The plates and food had disappeared, and everyone was standing, stretching, yawning. She looked under the table for her carpetbag and started to ask Petrel if he had seen it, but two prefects were up at the front of the table, one of them repeating the phrase Lapis hoped she’d never hear again after today.

     “First years this way, first years, up here please, we’re _supposed_ to be showing you the way to the common room,” said the girl who had hushed them before, elbowing the other prefect in the side.

     “Oh – oh, yeah, this way –“

Lapis was too sleepy to roll her eyes, but she and Petrel glanced at each other and smirked.

     They exited the Great Hall with a flood of other students, and Lapis caught sight of the tiny Slytherin girl, being swept along towards a descending staircase.

     _“Hey!”_ she called without thinking, and a couple heads turned to stare – but not the blonde curly one, chattering happily with what looked like a tall third year. Swallowing a strange disappointment, Lapis headed up the stairs with the rest.

     They seemed to walk forever. Sleepy and full of food, Lapis noticed but wasn’t necessarily surprised by the new wonders – a ghost who glided through a wall on the third floor (“Oh, hello! First years! By God, missed the Sorting again, have I?”), the second-floor staircase that changed direction while they were on it, the three secret passages they took, one of which, though completely flat, somehow took them from the third floor to the sixth, and the portraits, one of whom whispered to the frame next door, “Oh, so tired, look at the little dears.” Eventually, they reached the foot of a tower, and began to climb up in endless dizzying spirals.

     At the top, Lapis wasn’t even surprised when the great brass knocker, shaped like a bird’s head, opened its mouth to speak.

     “What goes neither up nor down?” it asked. The first prefect opened her mouth to answer, but, frustrated, closed it a moment later.

     “A staircase at Hogwarts,” Lapis said to Petrel, cracking a yawn that died in her throat as the door swung inwards.

     “Quite humorous,” the knocker replied, and Lapis was thumped on the shoulder several times by people passing into the common room. She blinked in surprise, a warm feeling rising in her chest.

   “Alright, first years, dormitories first room off the staircase, you’ll find your belongings and your schedules for tomorrow on your bed,” the bossy prefect was saying, but Lapis could only stare around, fresh wonder washing over her from what she had thought was an exhaustible supply.

   The room was circular, airy, and beautiful. A simple midnight-blue carpet covered the floor, deep and plush, and candlelit windows thrice Hagrid’s height arched delicately up to the ceiling, which was painted with rotating diagrams of golden constellations. In the daylight hours, the huge windows would provide plenty of light, but now the painted ceiling seemed to glow a soft gold. Bookshelves crammed with books were situated between each window, and blue armchairs were scattered around the center of the room. A tall nook next to the continuation of the spiral staircase housed a dignified and beautiful statue. Lapis felt like she could fly in this room, float effortlessly to touch the top of the ceiling, borne on the wings of imagination. It felt like home.

     “It’s b-b-beautiful,” Petrel yawned, opening his mouth so wide his jaw clicked as they climbed the staircase together.

     “Go to bed,” Lapis said with a grin.

“Can do,” he said fervently, turning off towards the door labeled _BOYS._

     “Petrel,” Lapis said, and he paused, one hand on the doorknob, “You want to know one good thing about your name?”

     He turned back towards her now, stepping aside to let the other first-year boys into the room.

     “I bet you’ll be able to fly like a bird at Quidditch tryouts.”

He smiled, a shy grin like melting butter on his face, dimples in his cheeks.

     “Thanks,” he said, and went into the dormitory, closing the door quietly behind him.

     Lapis slipped into her room, looking around. Five tall beds, hung with gauzy, semi-transparent curtains, were situated around the circular room. There were four slim windows, one between each bed, and the walls were dark wood and pale plaster. A carpet much like the one downstairs covered the floor.

     Three girls were already in bed, just silhouettes through the curtains. The fourth girl, thickset and soft-looking with quite a lot of wavy brown hair, was sitting crosslegged on the bed closest to the door, looking at her schedule. She gave Lapis a confident smile.

     “Trying out for the Quidditch team?” she whispered, and Lapis nodded before climbing onto her bed.

     Her carpetbag was there, and she had never felt such a rush of affection for the filthy old thing as she did then. She pulled out her pajamas, pulled off her robes, and changed quickly. At first, she stowed her wand in the bedside table’s little drawer, but that felt odd after having it in her sleeve pressed against her arm all day.

     She slipped it under her pillow and put the carpetbag at the foot of her bed. The ceiling above her bed glowed with tiny, barely visible stars when she pulled the curtains around her.

     _I’m home,_ she thought incoherently. The little stars seemed to wash the bed with warmth, and Lapis quickly fell asleep.

     She dreamed of the tiny girl, stars in her blonde hair, pulling her closer by the hand until they both ascended up to the roof of the world. They were flying without brooms, surrounded by the immovable gold of the heavens.

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued !


End file.
